


Starlights Steer Us Home

by drgknyte



Category: Magisterium Series - Holly Black & Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, all of this would be solved if they just talked honestly, boys and emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:31:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drgknyte/pseuds/drgknyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron kisses and ditches. Call is confused and angry. A deadly chase ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlights Steer Us Home

**Author's Note:**

> So as usual, massive thanks to tumblr's @magisteriumm for betareading and being a lovely person overall. 
> 
> And happy holidays ! :) I hope you have a terrific time y'all!

     Call is the first to pull away.

     It’s not like he didn’t particularly like Aaron’s kiss, because it was amazing, had felt like sparks skittering across his lips and surging to his heart.

     But, well.

     Being renderred weak in the knees from a stupidly good kiss is embarassing enough with people around, but they’re also in the middle of a _fight_.

      Screeching beyond the two of them, the fire elemental flaps its wings, but instead of whipping up a gale it produces a gust of fire that would have incinerated Tamara and Jasper if they hadn’t ducked behind a boulder.

     “Hey, when you two’re finished obssessing over each other, _maybe_ you can lend a hand!” Jasper screams at them, sweaty and rugged, hurtling a flurry of rocks to the firebird from his crouched position.

     A phoenix, Tamara had said.

     “I actually have to agree with him on this one!” she says now. “Get your butts in here and help us! You’ll have plenty more time together if we actually survive.”

     “We better! Life over boyfriends, losers!” Jasper adds, shooting them a quick glare before rolling to another boulder and sending a cloud of small rocks upward, pushing back the fire elemental farther into the sky a bit. Call glares at him. Feels his cheeks flare.

    All Tamara gives them is a tiny smirk before she whips up a mini tornado that disgruntles the phoenix.

     Call’s cheeks are on fire. “Come on,” he says seriously, determined to taper down the sparks where Aaron’s lips have been. “We got to help them.” He avoids eye contact, as it would surely go up against the no-blushing philosophy he’d adopted seconds ago.

       “Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” Aaron stands from where he’s crouched over Call, hands falling away from his good leg that has been burnt to the tissue by the phoenix’s fire. Aaron’s earth-binding skills are good and efficient. Naturally. Call barely feels a thing except for the open-ended nerves on his lips and the ba-thump of his heart as Aaron helps him up.

     He doesn’t even know how the kiss happened, just that it did. One moment Aaron was hovering over the disgusting patch of singed tissue on Call’s leg, Call having to screw his eyes shut from the pain, and the next there were lips on him. _Aaron’s_ lips.

    And, oh - there’s the swoop in his stomach again.

     Call shakes his head, and he and Aaron split up to either side of the phoenix just as Havoc bounds to the scene with a bottle of water pinned between his maw.

     He pointedly avoids Aaron the rest of the day.

***

     It infuriates Call, if he’s being honest, that Aaron is avoiding him, too.

     Because Call is afraid of a lot of things - the truth, spiders, eyeless fish, the ocean, confrontation. Aaron knows the last one comes with dread that always feels like ice in his heart. Aaron _knows_. So why does Call have to be the one to confront him about the incident when he’s the one who kissed his bestfriend? (A good kiss, but Call has only been kissed twice, so what does he know, really? Besides - not the point.)

     It has been days since their last actual interaction - and that was when they’d fought the fire elemental. Since then, Aaron has been evading Call’s company, reducing their friendship to half-hearted smiles and awkward silences.

     Call doesn’t hate Aaron, couldn’t for the life of him. He’s just mad that he’d kiss him and then hide away.

     Although, Call supposes he deserves part of the blame, too. Half of it. Because for all intents and purposes, he’s a coward, and he shouldn’t expect Aaron to always be the one mending stuff.

     “Talk to him,” Tamara says over the fire after Aaron leaves with Jasper and Havoc to gather more wood. They’re days and days away from actually finding a lead on who’s smuggling all these foreign elementals into the US, which has been disrupting the ecosystem in a chain reaction. “You two need to fix this rift between you before it gets worse. No offense, but you’re slowing our mission down. And it’s painful to watch. Just get on with it.”  
   
     “He _kissed_ me,” Call says, frustrated. “How do we just get on with that?”

     “Talk,” Tamara insists. “Use your words. You’re best friends; it shouldn’t be that hard. You talk to a lizard all the time.”

     “Warren didn’t kiss me. And I don’t talk to him - he speaks crazy stuff and I just listen, most of the time.”

     Tamara ignores him. “Besides, communication does wonders to a relationship.” She smirks, then giggles at Call’s reaction.

     “Shut up,” Call says, flushing darkly in the firelight. It’s just the heat, okay.

      “Did you like it?”

     “Shut _uuup_.” Call pulls the hoodie over his head and drags it until it completely covers his cheeks.

     “Did you?” Tamara repeats, relentless. “Did you like his kiss, Call? Better than Celia’s?”

     Call shrivels beneath her teasing, receding further into his hoodie, feeling something warm and light tug at his heartstrings. She’s vicious.

     “You did!” Tamara giggles. “It’s cute!”

     Can she _quiet down a bit_? Anybody within a five-mile radius would have heard her by now. This needs to stop. Call groans, resurfacing. “So I did. What’s the problem? He kissed me.”

    Tamara’s giggles deflate into a contented, somewhat exasperated sigh. “Exactly, Call. He kissed you. You liked it. What _is_ the problem?” She rolls her eyes, smile going small and sated, eyes softening. Dark skin hang beneath them. “You avoided him first. Talk to him.”

     “What if he doesn’t want to talk?”

     “Like he could resist you,” she scoffs. Gives him a look. Her smile flattens, the flames casting an orange glint in her eyes and the tinders crackling between them. “Just promise me you two won’t ditch me for dates _all_ the time.”

     Her lips curl, but Call knows she’s serious. They’re still her best friends, and she theirs, and honestly, Call doesn’t see himself passing up the chance to sneak around or out of the Magisterium with the two of them over _two-person dates._ Mostly. They’re best friends, first and foremost.

     Still, the thought doesn’t stop himself from bruising out a deeper blush as he says, “Yeah. Promise.”

    Tamara’s eyes soften and she smiles. Then her face twists into mischief again. “How did it feel?”

     “Shut up.”

***

     With the _torrential_ amount of luck they’d been having, Call shouldn’t be surprised that they would be chased by a hellhound through the woods when he actually gathers enough courage to talk to Aaron.

     Of course. A hellhound. Go figure.

     “Come on,” Aaron urges, tugging at his hand.

     “I’m trying.” Call grits his teeth when his foot snags on a root and a hot burst of pain shoots up his leg. He stumbles, but Aaron catches him and brings him to his feet.

     They keep running. The hellhound is large, possibly larger even than Havoc, and its paws pound into the ground like metals - which is, well, not much of a comparison, since their claws _are_ metal.

     Call hadn’t been prepared for this when he slipped out of their mini-cave (carved and shaped by earth magic, facing the lake, floor cushioned by layers of leaves) and sneaked behind Aaron into the woods. He was distractedly distorting a cloud of chaos in thin air and Call was just about to tap his shoulder - or startle him, maybe, the worst way possible, just to watch Aaron fluster - when the earth elemental emerged from the shadows, growling and snarling and tongue licking over silver teeth.

     The chase began shortly after.

     They couldn’t run to the mini-cave, because it would catch Tamara and Jasper off-guard especially considering this is the first night in almost a week that they can sleep peacefully. So they run deeper into the craddle of the woods, leading the hellhound away from their friends. Panting. Dried leaves and twigs crunching beneath their feet.

     Call wracks his brain for any knowledge of the hellhound; it doesn’t come smoothly, or all at once, but it comes. Tamara made them read all about elementals day and night so they could all grasp what they might face for this mission.

     The hellhound is exclusively European, found deep in Scandinavian forests. A metal elemental. Could chew through rocks and most metals like a scissor could cut through paper. Teeth and claws that change with age, from bronze to silver to gold. Fiercely territorial. Highly reactive. Vicious. Mages are to get out of their way as much as chances allow.

     But what did the books say about the procedures when a hellhound actually goes plowing through the forest, bent on killing two 15-year-olds? _Nothing_.

     “What were you even doing outside?” Call snaps at Aaron, whose hands have gone slippery and clammy in his. He doesn’t mind much.

     “I was thinking! I couldn’t think with you in there,” Aaron says.

     “What’s that supposed to mean?”

     “It means, Call,” Aaron pants. “That I can’t think straight when the person I’m trying to think straight about is in the same room with me.” He’s breathless from running and he sounds a little frustrated. “What were you doing?”

     They stop just at the edge of a small ravine with a stream running down the middle. Call can hear the water humming against rocks and boulders. Between Call’s leg and the steepness of the ravine’s face, they both know they would never get out of it if they fell. At least not quickly. They’d have to find a way around, which might take the whole night.

     And that’s _if_ the hellhound doesn’t kill them before then.

     Call turns to face Aaron. “I was going to talk to you,” he says, panting. “Because you wouldn’t talk to me.”</p

      Aaron looks at him guiltily, then. His face is flushed, sweaty, but the moon makes him look like a dream. Or the incarnation of one. His gold hair - almost pearly white in the moonlight - is a mess. Lips open, puffs of breath coming through them. Eyes soft and apologetic.

     It’s unfair.

     “I’m sorry,” Aaron says. “Call, it’s not … I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

     “Why did you do it?” Call asks, cutting to the point, because he can hear the tremulous pounds of paws on the ground reaching them, and he has to know now.

     “You were in pain,” Aaron explains. “I couldn’t stand it. I had to help, do something.”

     Call had a glimpse of it, the panic and fear in Aaron’s eyes when he saw the burnt muscle tissues and sinews on his leg, before he’d closed his own and grit his teeth. It was a flashbomb of pain, licking all over his skin, prickling in his bones, coiling in his muscles.

     He could imagine the look he must have had.

     The pain became static when Aaron moved his lips against his, like background noise, like something that didn’t matter as much as the feeling unfurling in his gut right then.

     And then.

     And then Aaron didn’t talk to him for _days_. 

     “So you kissed me?” Call says, frowning, something creeping up his voice. Confusion, maybe. Hurt. Probably. Nothing makes any sense. “I was in pain so you kissed me.”

     Aaron’s eyes widen, and he scrambles to collect his words. “Not because of that, Call! I mean. I mean, yeah, you were in pain, and it was a definite factor, but. But not just -” A pause, a steadying breath. “Not just because of that.”

     The hellhound reaches them with its nostrils flaring. It stops just a few meters from them and lets out a rabid, booming bark, moonlight catching on its silver teeth. Its pupils are menacing black beads in a pool of white. Black fur with red-brown streaks rippling in the wind.

     Call’s mind, whirring with a constant thought of  _Aaron_ and _kiss!_ , grasps onto the urgent situation enough to focus. “It’s a metal elemental,” he says.

     Aaron braces himself, left shoulder jabbing forward, hands raised to his chest and prepared to wield whatever element the situation demands. “Yeah. So fire magic?”

     “That’s the idea.” Call feels his lips twitch, despite the circumstances. Here they are, best friends, fighting off a hellhound in the dead of night right at the edge of a short cliff. Typical. Familiar.

     Aaron catches his look and smiles. The hellhound charges, teeth snapping wildly.

***

     It’s unsurprisingly tiring, but freaking fantastic, to push the elemental over the edge with a strong blast of fire magic and watch it disintigrate into dust and silver teeth on its way down. With, of course, the help of Havoc, who’d barelled into the scene all fangs and chaos-ridden fury.

     They sit at the edge, now, cross-legged and their sweat licked cool and dry by the night’s wind. Havoc pants between them on his stomach with his tongue out.

     It feels ridiculously nice and comfortable, the silence and the cool air.

     “I meant it,” Aaron says, “that I didn’t kiss you just because you were in pain.” His words are soft and gentle and feel as if they belong to this air, to this night. Not a letter out of place. 

     Call runs his palm up and down Havoc’s spine, stopping at his scruff on the way up to massage the muscles there with his fingers. “So why did you do it? And then ignored me. It felt like you were trying to make things as awkward as possible.” There’s a hint of accusation at his words - because it’s true. Aaron went out of his way to avoid Call. 

     Aaron shakes his head vehemently. “I wasn’t! I was… I mean. I was avoiding you. But I swear I didn’t mean to make you awkward.”

     “That’s stupid. Avoiding your best friend after you kiss him doesn’t make things not awkward for him,” he bites out.

     “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

     “Why?”

     Aaron looks at him incredulously. “With that thing with the phoenix! You ignored me the whole time.”

     “There were people. Tamara was there. And _Jasper_. And we were on a fight,” Call says defensively. “And I had to sort things out first.”

     “What things?”

     Call glares at Aaron, who looks dubious and genuinely confused. Does he actually want him to say it?

     “What things, Call?” Aaron asks after a beat.

     Apparently so. “My feelings,” he grinds out, feeling heat lick up his cheeks again. His heart picks up a faster rhythm that makes his blood thrum beneath his skin.

     Aaron’s lips crack a smile. “Your … feelings?”

     “Yes,” Call harrumphs. “Happy?” Havoc barks, twice, at something in the distance. Or maybe he thought Call’s question was directed at him. Which is ridiculous, but plausible. Havoc is smart. Call scratches at the soft skin under his muzzle where head meets body.

     Aaron grins at him, elegant in the moonlight. “I have my feelings sorted, Call. I’m positive that I like you.” Call’s heart jumps at that, the traitor. “Do you have yours sorted now?”

     Call thinks about it. He knows he liked the kiss, knows his heart is inclined to doing all sorts of somersaults at the prospect of it, that he wouldn’t mind holding Aaron’s hands clammy or otherwise - but it’s impossible to know completely. Nothing is ever black and white with his feelings, so he says, “I don’t know.”

     “Did you like the kiss?”

     Call bristles, but he lets out a breath and says, “Yeah. It was … okay.” His stomach twists - not an entitely unpleasant feeling. Saying it out loud, in front of Aaron … it feels like baring himself.

     Aaron’s eyes have silver specs in them, thanks to the moon. He looks amused, but happy. Ridiculously happy. “It was okay? So you wouldn’t mind if I tried again? Just to see if I can improve?”

     Call stares at him. “Are you asking me to be your kiss dummy?”

     Aaron flushes. “No! No, no. Of course not. I … No. I mean, I don’t ever think about kissing anyone but you.”

     Call instinctively stares at Aaron’s lips. “No. I wouldn’t mind. Not really.”

     “Not _really_?” Aaron raises both eyebrows in question - he can never raise them individually.

     “You want to try again or not?”

     Aaron’s lips fit his perfectly. They’re rough, and not as full as a girl’s probably, but it feels right. Feels good, good, good. A hand brushes at his cheek. Pushes through his hair, lands at the back of his neck, a thumb by his ear.  It feels like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting together.

     They pull apart when Havoc barks, licks at Call’s chin and pushes him onto his back, barking. Licks all over his face. He must have felt left out.

     Call laughs and reaches out to rub all over his hackles. When Aaron joins in and pets Havoc’s head, the wolf pushes back and bites playfully at his hand until he abandons Call completely to make a salivated mess of Aaron’s hair and face.

     Call sits up and looks at them, something unfurling in his chest. It should be terrifying, watching a wolf maul your best friend and potential boyfriend over, but it’s good. He’s here. He’s home. 


End file.
